Page 49 of Reckless Forever
I was going to force the Jennings Family back into my home. If I knew them like I thought I did, they had eyes on me just like I had eyes on them. It was a risky move, one that could likely be the end of my life, but I was going to try it anyway. I tapped my hands on the desk and hummed a Bolivian song as I waited for the confirmation that the bombs had been dropped.
The soldier called me back twenty minutes later.
“It’s done.” He said into the phone with a chuckle.
“And the homes are still standing?” I asked for clarification.
“Perfect,” he said as he whistled.
“Good.” I chuckled as I disconnected the phone and waited.
I continued to hum as I gave it an hour or so for them to make contact. When they didn’t, I knew that we were far past pleasantries and negotiation. So, I picked up the phone again and called Jaxon. He answered with his voice even; the way the Spanish rolled off his tongue was impeccable.
“You must be repenting before you die?” He gritted.
“No, I’m not. I just thought that we could come to an agreement.”
“An agreement after you fucked up our lawns with those weak ass bombs?” He asked, and I fought the urge to chuckle at his disapproval.
“No. That was me showing you that I could end you all at will. I want the boy and my goddaughter to return to Bolivia. We have unfinished business. He’s disrespected me and gone against my wishes, and now he has to die.” I met the ice in his voice.
“You want me to send my brother to you?” He asked for clarification.
“Exactly,” I said back to him.
I could hear him having a conversation in English, and then I heard the bull get on the phone.
“Kiss my ass, I ain’t hiding from nobody. I’ll be there.” Judah said, then hung up. His Spanish was suddenly better than all thetimes that he had been in my home. I laughed heartily from the gut as I doubled over the desk.
That is exactly what I meant about him. He had the heart of a lion and would go against the world. Now he was going against the world for my goddaughter, and I couldn’t have been prouder of that.
I walked past the swarm of people working to clean up the blood and the mess they had made in my home and went to take a shower. I was old and needed to be well-rested when they arrived.
The girls were already waiting in bed when I made it. They looked unsure if they wanted to fall asleep, and I should’ve been, but an old man has to power up. I’m not as young as I once was, and I was going to need the energy to deal with this.
The sirens from the gate wailed, and I knew the Jennings were here.
I ushered the girls into the safe room with a quiet wave of my hand. Their eyes flicked to me nervously, but I offered no words of comfort. Comfort was for children, and the scared didn’t live long. Tonight, the only thing between us would be the truth.
I slid out of bed as best I could. My joints are stiff, but my mind is sharper than ever. I had slept fully dressed in my suit, knowing that this moment would come. The weight of Ivany’s letter pressed against my chest like the foot of an elephant. I adjusted my tie, smoothed the lapel of my jacket, and walked slowly downstairs.
Through the window, I saw headlights cutting through the dark of the Bolivian night. Trucks. A fleet, one as large as the military. They had not come to talk. Even underthese circumstances, I was impressed by their nerve and preparedness.
The bull was first out of the truck. Judah Jennings. His jaw was carved from stone; his shoulders were squared, and his body was tense with anger. His eyes burned holes through me, and I knew that look. He had already chosen the fate of the night. Either I was going to die or he was.
My soldiers lined the perimeter, rifles trained, fingers steady against triggers. Normally, one wave from me, and Jennings' blood would water the soil. But not tonight. They had all been given strict orders to stand down.
I stepped forward to meet them, opening my arms wide, hands showing no weapons. Like I was daring him to shoot me in the chest.
The bull lifted his rifle in a second. No hesitation. No fear. The barrel leveled at my forehead. His finger tightened on the trigger, and for a moment, I thought I had misjudged the situation.
I smirked, my calm resonating through my body and my voice. “I have something for you.”
He didn’t flinch. The barrel didn’t move; he didn’t understand me.
From my pocket, I pulled a letter, the one I had guarded like the money it was worth. I held it out to him, the paper trembling slightly in my hand but not from fear of death. From the weight of what I was passing on.
He didn’t take it. His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched tight. The rifle pressed closer, so close I could feel the cold metal between my brows. I saw his finger tap the trigger.
